


King's Men

by Marta



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Politics, Poverty, Pregnancy, Religious Themes & References, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-23
Updated: 2011-04-23
Packaged: 2017-10-18 14:00:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/189614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marta/pseuds/Marta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the beginning of the Second Age the Valar "forsook for a time the Men of Middle-earth." For those who had fought with the elves against Morgoth they created Numenor, but the rest faced a series of evil kings, culminating eventually in Sauron's domination. What might life have looked like for people in that situation?</p>
            </blockquote>





	King's Men

**Author's Note:**

> After the victory of the Lord of the West those of the evil Men who were not destroyed fled back into the east, where many of their race were still wandering in the unharvested lands, wild and lawless, refusing alike the summons of the Valar and of Morgoth. And the evil Men came among them, and cast over them a shadow of fear, and they took them for kings. Then the Valar forsook for a time the Men of Middle-earth. [...]
> 
> In this Age, as is elsewhere told, Sauron arose again in Middle-earth, and grew, and turned back to the evil in which he was nurtured by Morgoth, becoming mighty in his service. Already in the days of Tar-Minastir, the eleventh King of Númenor, he had fortified the land of Mordor and had built there the Tower of Barad-dûr, and thereafter he strove ever for the dominion of Middle-earth, to become a king over all kings and as a god unto Men.
> 
> (from "Akallabêth," The Silmarillion)

_c. 1700, Second Age_

 

Osram stood on the cliff overlooking the bay, his wife Nadira standing by his side. He was a fisherman by trade and on most days he would still be at sea seeking the fish he traded for the coin to sustain them. That morning, though, he had woke to a red sky and the sight of flocks of gulls pecking on the beach rather than skimming above the waters as was their wont. He knew nature's signs well enough to guess that that usually meant a foul storm before the sun reached her full height, so he had spent the day in their cottage, fixing the tears in his nets.

It had been a good day, he decided. As close to a holiday as he was likely to ever get. His hands had kept busy at their work, to be sure, but there was something about being so close to Nadira that filled him with a deep sense of peace, and the clack of her knitting-needles became after a time almost a song to his ear. The thunder had boomed overhead all that morning, but their fire was warm and their walls kept the wind and the rain away from them.

When at last the storm passed Osram told himself it was too late in the day to start with fishing. It wasn't, of course, but he could not quite bring himself to leave Nadira. Not today. At day's end Nadira had proposed a walk to the cliffs above their cove, so they could watch the sun's set together, and Osram had gladly agreed. Now they stood together, watching as the gulls wheeled about in the purple half-light left in the wake of the sun's retreat beyond the horizon.

"What do you think it would be like?" Nadira asked quietly. "To fly like that? To be able to fly away?"

Osram's hand grasped protectively at her belly, newly swollen with the life growing within her. "He will not take this one," Osram said. "I will protect him, I promise you."

Nadira turned her head so she looked up into her husband's eyes, and Osram was surprised to see tears in her eyes. "Some things you cannot stop, husband mine," she said gently. "Not if this child truly _is_ a he." With a sigh she rested her head against Osram's shoulder. "I do not care for this Tar-Mairon," she said, "this giver of gifts." She spoke the words quietly, but to speak them at all was no small rebellion. "He may shower the great lords with riches in his city all of jade," she continued. "I do not know. But with the likes of us, he will never do but take. He will take from us whatsoever his lust may demand, with both his hands."

A breeze came up around them, billowing her flax cloak around them both like a king's train. "We will wish for a daughter," he said at last. "We can still hope. Surely Tar-Mairon will not claim the daughters, at least not until they are of age to be married?" He squeezed her hand encouragingly. "And even if it is a son, the soldiers will leave him with us for a while yet. Not until he is old enough – "

Nadira whirled around and faced him angrily. "Don't you say it," she said, spitting at his boots. "You make it sound like Tar-Mairon – great and merciful _lord_ that he is – " She broke off, seemingly unable to even finish the sentence. Osram truly did not know what to say to that, so he pulled her close once more, running his fingers through her hair soothingly and resting his hands against hers. At last he said, as gently as he could manage, "I only meant that we would have some time, to ransom him. The soldiers allow that, sometimes."

But Nadira shook her head at that suggestion. "They ask for more than the likes of us could raise in a lifetime, Osram," she said. The anger had left her voice, but Osram was not glad of that, for all other feeling seemed to have left her as well. "And they would not take it anyway unless our taxes were paid in full. As for that, the generals demand more than we can ever pay. No, we must hope for a daughter this time. If not..."

Her voice trailed off once more as she looked out across the sea, and Osram felt her shoulders roll back against him. Raising his head so he could look at her better, he saw that she was looking at some point across the waves, some definite point as if she searched for something in particular. Some time passed, but Nadira did not explain her thoughts to him. "What do you look for?" he asked.

Nadira frowned. "It was only a fancy," she said. "A fool's hope, like as not. But my grandmother once told me a tale she heard in her youth, from the days when the sea-kings still came to trade with us. There is a port far to the north, she said. The elf-folk live there, and their ships sometimes sail to lands far away. I wondered whether we could find them." Reaching up, she traced her thumb along his jaw. "I love you, Osram, never you doubt that. And I know you would protect me from whatever you can. That you try your best. But surely you must see that life is stacked against us here? Whatever life is like in those other lands, it must be better than this."

At that Osram felt like weeping, for his wife's hope was so plain in her eyes – hope, and desperation. But he knew such a trip would mean their deaths. He had thought to hide their last son, Jamal, at sea, to take the three of them out on his dingy and hope that the royal sailors would not come looking for him; but his small craft could barely hold him, and if he tried to buy lumber to build a better one it would arouse suspicion.

So when the soldiers came some months later for Jamal, Osram had watched as they led him away. As they had taken his brother Tamir before him. Osram had struggled to hold Nadira back, from struggling against the king's men, for he knew no good would come of her striking them. He had vowed to keep Jamal safe, but in the end he could do nothing. If he had fought against the soldiers they would kill him where he stood, or worse yet, carry him and Nadira off in chains to the Jade City. That fate seemed worse than death, then as it did now. But it wore against him, to think of his sons so far away. What must they be like now? Did they still live?

He had thought, back before Jamal's birth, of fleeing across the desert, but where could they go? The sea-kings were everywhere these days, and Osram had heard of the men they took as slaves. And his Nadira was so beautiful. What would they do to her? That thought had sent a chill down his spine then, just as it did now. Would that he could see an escape! But no; however hard he had looked, however long he thought on it, all roads seemed impossible.

"It would be a better life, but we would never get so far as the Great River," he said at last. "I cannot see a way out for us, by boat or by foot." Pulling aside her hair, he laid a kiss at the base of her neck and breathed in her scent. "We must hope for a girl," he said. "We must hope a while longer."

Nadira's voice, when she answered, was scarcely more than a whisper. "And if hope fails us again?"

Osram shook his head, unable to form the words quite yet. Wrapping his arms around her, he swayed with her in the evening's breeze. If not – if not? In his mind he knew that his sons were kings' men, already owned through and through by men greater than him. He wished then that he could go in their stead – that he could die so they might stay with Nadira – he knew he would do near anything to keep her from handing over another child. But he had thought such things before, had prayed to the gods that seemingly heard only Tar-Mairon's entreaties. Jamal and Tamir had been his sons as well.

Still, he sent a silent prayer to the stars hung in the now-inky sky, to any gods not yet deaf. They must hope for a while yet, he and Nadira. They must hold to each other and hold to that hope until there was no longer any doubt. What else was left for them to do?

**Author's Note:**

> Mairon was Sauron's name before he rebelled and became one of Morgoth's lieutenants. Parma Eldalamberon XVIII suggests that Sauron comes from the Quenya for the Abhorred, so I find it unlikely that Sauron would use that name for himself at this point. That same volume also says that "he continued to call himself Mairon the Admirable, or Tar-mairon 'King Excellent', until after Númenor's downfall." Since Sauron is trying to make himself into a king of all men – a god, even – I think he'd use the more flattering name.
> 
> Some readers may recognize the line "He will take from us whatsoever his lust may demand, with both his hands." It is patterned after Morgoth's promise to Ungoliant in "Of the Darkening of Valinor."
> 
> Osram and Nadira are of course OCs. Though it is not crucial to the story, I imagine them as Haradrim, but of a clan besides the one that Sauron gave his gifts to. (Ergo the poverty.)


End file.
